


Asked and Answered

by 1863



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Extended Universe
Genre: M/M, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-15 10:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18497032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1863/pseuds/1863
Summary: A summer night in a Kansas cornfield, and the start of something new.





	Asked and Answered

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: 100 words of starlight.

“Not bad, huh?”

Bruce glances over. Clark is sitting in the back of his mom's pick-up truck, long legs stretched over the open tailgate. There's a little container of strawberries in his lap—Mrs Kent had insisted, saying Bruce couldn’t experience a proper Kansas summer night without them—but he's ignoring it for now, preoccupied with looking out over the cornfield.

Bruce follows his gaze. The sun set hours ago but it's still warm, a barely-there breeze ghosting over his bare forearms and gently ruffling his hair. Crickets chirp, a distant dog barks, and lightning bugs hover over the stalks, little spots of brightness in the quiet, soft dark.

“It's not quite as exciting as going on patrol, but—” Bruce shrugs. “No. It's not bad at all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Clark shake his head. 

“Bruce,” he says, “your Batman is showing.” But there's amusement in his voice and Bruce knows without looking that there’s a smile on his face. “You wanted to know what I did during the summers before I left for Metropolis.” He gestures at the field. “Well, here it is.”

“Just this?” Bruce turns to face him. “You just sat here and looked out at the cornfield all night?”

Clark shrugs. “I had a lot on my mind.”

“Yeah,” Bruce says. Past mistakes and blind assumptions cast shadows over his thoughts, and his voice goes quiet. “I can imagine.”

He looks away despite the darkness making it difficult to see Clark's face. After all, Clark would have no such trouble seeing his, and Bruce doesn't want to ruin what had been a surprisingly pleasant evening—Mrs Kent's excellent food and even better company, Clark's easy smiles and relaxed contentment. It was good—it _is_ good—but it still feels too fragile, like the smallest thing could land them right back where they'd started. A wrong word, a misguided touch, an answer never given.

But Clark never did know when to let things lie, and a moment later Bruce feels warm fingers circling his wrist.

“Hey,” Clark says. He tugs, gently, until Bruce meets his eyes again. There's only a sliver of moon in the sky but Bruce sees enough of the look on Clark’s face to make his heart stutter a little in his chest, and Clark smiles suddenly, hearing it as well as feeling it, probably, against the palm still pressed against his wrist.

“Come on,” Clark adds. He uses his free hand to pat the space beside him. “It wasn't just the cornfield I looked at.”

Bruce settles down next to him and they both lay back, heads close enough that his hair brushes Clark's temple when the breeze picks up.

Stars glitter in the sky high above them, looking not unlike the lightning bugs glowing amongst the cornstalks. It makes it easy to imagine being up there too, floating through the stars and far, far away from anything earthbound. Problems, worries. People. 

“I used to wonder what life would be like when I grew up,” Clark murmurs. “Whether I'd stay here, work the farm like mom and dad, just… live a normal life.”

“I bet you never expected to be where you ended up," Bruce says.

“No,” Clark agrees. Bruce can hear the smile in his voice, as clearly as Clark must be able to hear his heartbeat. “I most definitely did not.”

They lay there in silence for a little while, just staring up at the stars. And then Clark turns his head, and Bruce feels the warm puff of his breath against his cheek when he asks, “What about you? Did you expect this?”

Clark's fingers are still curled around his wrist. Just a light grip, less a demand and more like a question. 

“No,” Bruce admits. “I didn't.” Then he takes a breath and answers, moving his hand until their fingers brush, then tangle, then squeeze. “But I think what I got is a lot better.”


End file.
